


All A King Should Be

by justfandomwritings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Essos, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, House Lannister, Implied Relationships, Mad King antics, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, POV Tywin Lannister, Pre-A Game of Thrones, Pre-Canon, Pre-Rains of Castamere, Revenge, Romance, The Rains of Castamere (song), Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:50:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justfandomwritings/pseuds/justfandomwritings
Summary: Men like Tywin Lannister weren't made. They were born. His was a mind superior to the realms of men. No one but the gods could create such a thing. Poised for greatness and ready to cease it.Tywin Lannister was born to wear a crown, and she was going to be the one to put it on his head.





	All A King Should Be

“Father,” Tywin growled under his breath. “Must you bring her?” 

“Be kind Tywin,” Tytos good-naturedly reprimanded his eldest son. Playfully shoving the stubborn young man in the shoulder, as if that would ease Tywin’s mood. “This is meant to be a lovely family journey to Lannisport, not one of your angry mealtime lectures.” 

“The family does not include whatever woman is warming your bed tonight, Father,” Tywin spat with a venom that he made sure the unwelcome addition could hear.

“Tywin,” a shrill voice cut through the air. “Relax, dear. It is only some traders from Essos. This is meant to be fun!” 

Fun. Tywin knew Megga’s idea of fun. 

Megga was a candlemaker’s daughter, a lowborn woman who had worked her way into his father’s chambers one night after making a delivery of candles on her father’s behalf. It had taken her meer minutes to seduce Tytos Lannister into inviting her up to his chambers under the guise of choosing an arrangement for his next order of candles, and they had not left his room, except to order more wine, for three days after.

She delighted in nothing but possessions. Tytos’s words of affection did nothing for her. Megga’s father’s pride at her rising status did not warrant notice. The attention showered on her by knights and lesser lords looking to be in Tytos’s good graces meant little. Even her newfound friendship with that witch of a woman Ellyn Tarbeck was of no consequence. 

Megga spoke one language: gold. She wanted bars of it for paperweights, more jewelry made of it than she could ever wear. She wanted to spend every last ounce of gold that came out of Casterly Rock’s mines, and Tytos Lannister had a mind to let her. 

A fleet of merchant ships had docked in Lannisport and asked to speak with the ruling branch of the family. Normally, such a thing would have garnered no response from even such a weak willed man as Tytos, but the fleet held promise. They had sailed straight to Lannisport, and their hulls were still full of all their wears. If they had come from Westeros, that might not have been of note, but the ships had sailed all the way from Essos, all the way from  _ Asshai _ , without stopping.

Even the usually disinterested Tywin had been intrigued to see what their stores held, but of course, Tytos brought Megga. What should have been a promising discussion of continued, mutually advantageous trade would instead be turned into a one-time spree aboard respectable merchant vessels who would never wish to return to House Lannister once they had met its pathetic excuse for rulers.

“Might I suggest, dear Megga,” Tywin looked around his father to glaring loathingly at the woman in question, “that you refrain from such indecencies and address your liege lords by their proper titles when in the presence of outsiders.”

“Of course, Tywin,” Megga smirked. “I’m happy to know you no longer see me as an outsider.”

Kevan snorted derisively at Tywin’s left hand side. “Brother, peace,” Kevan half-heartedly endeared, “we have the ride home to deal with, lest you forget.”

“Yes,” Tywin mused, “the ride home plus one carriage no doubt. I’m sure Tytos will have to buy one in Lannisport to fit all the goods Megga convinces him to buy for her.” 

Tygett, riding behind his elder brothers, chuckled to himself. “And who, pray tell, is going to sacrifice their horse to pull the bloody thing, Tywin?”

Tywin glowered at the thought. “None of us are walking for that wench, brothers.” Tywin assured them. 

The party of Tytos, his three eldest sons, his mistress, and a handful of guards rode for their extended family’s home in Lannisport, intent on informing their distant cousins of their presence should they wish to join the group in seeing the traders. 

House Lannister of Lannisport was only a few miles from the Rock, and there had never been a want or need to build a castle so close by, simply for the cadet branch’s pleasure. Rather, their seat was a spacious villa, nestled right where the walls of Lannisport met the sea. It was a gorgeous place that Tywin often enjoyed visiting to escape Tytos on particularly agitating days when he could no longer tolerate the man. Tywin knew his extended family well. 

“Ella?” Tywin called as he saw his distant relation standing at the road, seemingly waiting for them. 

“Ser Tywin,” Ella curtsied to him but didn’t even bother acknowledging Tytos. 

“What is this?” Megga addressed the young woman.

Ella diverted her gaze to the candlemaker’s daughter only briefly before her eyes turned back to Tywin. The cadet branch of the Lannister family had been one of the few houses in the Westerlands not to take advantage of Tytos’s cowardess. Lannister was their name Tytos so callously sullied as well. There would be no deference paid to a woman like Megga here, no matter how much she demanded it. 

“My lord, the trading ships from Asshai have invited us to join you and have moved to dock just off our shore so that we might paddle out from here.” She said to Tywin. “Everyone else is prepared to leave. They are waiting at the water.” 

“Excellent!” Tytos leapt from his horse in a rush to help Megga dismount hers. 

Ella waved and called out to a group of boys lingering around the house, and the stable hands came running to take the lords’ horses. 

“Tell me, Ella,” Kevan made conversation as they walked to the docks. “Do any of you know what this is all about?”

Ella gave an excited answer, “I would presume that, being from Asshai, they have something interesting like dragonglass, but if they’re making such a grand display to summon us all, I rather hope they have a dragon egg. I’ve heard there are several in Asshai, turned to rock with age.”

“Well, if they have such a thing I’d certainly enjoy seeing it.” Kevan agreed.

They joined Ella’s older sister and younger brother, Arcella and Lyman Lannister, at the docks and were greeted by their father, Lawsen. Three row boats had been prepared, and a small troop of guards was preparing to paddle out to meet their hosts. 

Not far off the shore, Tywin could see a group of four large galley ships clustered in the harbor. Traders from Asshai ventured to Lannisport occasionally, but only as one stop of many along regular trading routes. None had ever been worthy of a visit from House Lannister. As a result, Tywin had never personally seen a trading ship from Asshai, but even if he hadn’t known what they came to see, he would have known what he was looking at. There was no mistaking the galleys as the property of anyone but Asshai. 

Their wood was almost black against the crystal clear water and looked as dark as the Shadow from whence it came. Sails of gleaming gray billowed out from their mast; if they weren’t flowing in the wind, Tywin would have thought they were made of metal. Intricate carvings, too small in detail to make out from a distance, littered the bow of the ships, each unique from the one next to it. Three of the bows were capped by beautiful young mermaids, but the fourth, the largest in the center, was crested by the head of a dragon, complete with wooden wings folded back along the sides of the ship. 

“Well, they don’t call them Asshai by the Shadow for no reason.” Tygett voiced his brother’s observations and chuckled as he climbed into one of the row boats. 

Tywin nodded his agreement and followed his younger brother. “Not a traditional wood for a galley, I wonder what they used.” 

“It can’t be very fast,” Tygett added. 

Lawsen gave the order and his men on the shore pushed them off. Four guards paddled each of the boats: Tywin, Tygett, and Arcella in one; Lawsen with Tytos and his mistress in another; and Kevan, Ella, and Lyman in the boat bringing up the rear. 

“Did they say which ship?” Tywin overheard Tytos asking.

Lawsen snorted. “The dragon of course,” he said as if it was the dumbest question in the world, and it probably was.

As they paddled in, two rope ladders were hauled over the expansive side of the dragon ship. “There,” Tywin got the attention of the guards and pointed to where they should go, “But follow after my father.” 

It wasn’t that Tywin wanted Tytos and his mistress to mare the merchants’ impressions of them, and if it had just been his father he would have not cared for the disrespect of an heir going before his lord. Yet, with Lawsen present he didn’t want to further undermine his father’s authority. The man already made House Lannister look weak enough without help. 

“Are you the Lannisters?” One of a cluster of men atop the ship deck asked. 

“Yes,” Tytos called up the ladder as they pulled in close to the ships. “We have travelled from Casterly Rock.”

A slight figure, covered head to toe in black, pushed to the front of the group and flung themself over the railing. With deft hands, they descended one of the ladders down to the boats to greet them, stopping a few rungs above the tops of the Lannister parties heads. 

“Which of you is the Lord of this party?” The voice that came from beneath the hood was too high to be a man’s. Tywin thought it odd that a boy so tall would lack any width or bulk, but these were sailors not soldiers, he supposed. 

Tytos Lannister stood in his row boat and almost went tumbling over the side as he lost his footing. Scrambling back up with the help of a guard, Tytos tried to sound off with some of his lost authority. “Boy, I’m here to see your captain. I am Tytos Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock.”

With one gloved hand still gripping the rope, the sailor hung leisurely off the side of the ship. “Boy?” 

With a quick shake of the wrist, the glove fell from the figure’s free hand and landed in the water beneath, rushing down under the ship with the current. An exposed set of long, thin fingers reached up to push away the hood. 

It was a woman, a Valyrian woman judging by her frosted hair and purple eyes, and like all of them, she was a beauty to behold. 

Pale skin, strong in its unblemished perfection yet fragile in its delicate porcelain tone, was stretched over sharp cheek bones, colored only slightly despite the warmth of the midday sun and her all black attire. The hair behind her ears was pinned up in a twisted knot at the back of her head while a dozen locks came down both sides to frame her face; their shine made them easily mistakable for long chains of silver jewelry. Her lips were small, much like her narrow frame, but they were beautifully pink and perfectly shaped. 

Her eyes, though, drew Tywin in. Not in the way bards loved to sing about falling for a woman’s eyes or the way his father lavished affections on ladies about their enchanting irises because it was an easy and appropriate thing to compliment. 

Her eyes drew Tywin in with their depth, with their intelligence. They were a dark shade of royal purple, even darker than King Jaehaerys or Crown Prince Aerys. They gave her otherwise ethereal features a sense of foreboding. Her lips were quaint; her frame was petite; her skin was that of a doll; her hair was richly colored; but her eyes were fierce, discerning. Tywin thought, if the shade wasn’t so dark as to hide the wheels spinning inside her mind, he could watch her calculating her next move. 

“Tytos,” her voice cut through the air, “was not the name I was told to look for, boy.” She spoke the Common Tongue with a thinly veiled accent that rolled each of her words into the next one, more like song than speech.

“I,” Tytos spluttered, “I don’t know the meaning of this. I am Lord Tytos Lannister of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West.” 

“You are a lord?” The woman questioned in a doubtful tone, and when Tytos didn’t immediately respond she returned to the ladder and made to climb back up to her ship.

Tytos sat down beside Megga with a dramatic huff of air. No one else spoke as they watched the woman begin to climb, and Tywin grew frustrated with being so openly flouted. He had not wasted a day of productivity for this. 

The guards with him paddled lazily at the water to keep the heir’s row boat from bumping into his father’s, but he was only a few feet further, well within earshot.

“My name is Ser Tywin Lannister, Heir to Casterly Rock.” Tywin carefully stood from his place and spoke with all the authority his father tried and failed to possess. “We were summoned here by the captain of this vessel, and we will speak to him immediately.” 

The woman turned while he spoke and looked him over curiously, “Now that,” one of her eyebrows raised in amusement, “I actually believe.”

The still unnamed woman pressed two fingers to her lips and whistled to the men above, “Call for the Captain! They’re coming up!”

Tytos sent his eldest son an appreciative smile and helped Megga up onto the empty rope ladder first. 

“No.”

A hand quickly whipped out and blocked Megga’s path up the side of the ship. 

“What is this?” Tytos complained at being impeded yet again. 

“Your men and the girls are welcome to come aboard, but her kind aren’t allowed on the ship. They cause too much dissent amongst the crew,” the woman sneered down at Megga from several rungs up the second ladder. 

Megga was shocked, and even from his distance behind her, Tywin could see she was visibly enraged. “I beg your pardon; I am a guest of his Lord Tytos Lannister.”

“Guest or not, that does not change what you are.” The woman rolled her eyes at Megga’s attempts at defense. 

“And what do you mean by that?” Tytos actually sounded as those he’d managed to work up some anger on behalf of his companion. 

The woman didn’t even acknowledge Tytos spoke, she continued to address Megga directly, “Darling, you might fool weak Western lords, but I grew up in Lys. I know a whore when I see one.” 

Tywin was conflicted. The sheer elation he felt watching Megga’s horror at being condescended to by someone other than himself was weighing against the utter embarrassment of being so openly called out on such indecency. As if Megga hadn’t damaged their reputation enough in the Westerlands or Westeros, now the world would know his shame. 

“I-I will not be treated in this way,” Megga spoke utterly aghast. 

With a swift kick to Megga’s right arm, the woman sent Tytos’s mistress tumbling back into the boat with a sharp cry of pain. A guard caught her while another steadied the boat against the hull of the ship to keep from capsizing, with Lawsen’s help. 

“You will be treated as you are paid to be treated: cheaply, judging by the looks of you.” Purple eyes turned to Tywin, “Forgive me, but if you wish to return home by sundown we really should hurry this along. The whore stays in the boat. If your guards wish to come up, I can have a man wait with her.” 

“Our guards will wait here.” The men being mostly in Lawsen’s employ, he answered the woman and settled the matter quickly. 

“Good. Then follow me up.” The woman climbed up so quickly that when Tywin blinked she was already disappearing back at the top. 

It was an ordeal to rotate the three boats close to the ladder so each of the Lannisters could climb up, but it was made worse by Megga’s constant moaning about her exclusion. “At least we won’t have to worry about being informally addressed,” Tygett commented to Tywin just loud enough for Megga to hear as the pair began to climb the two ladders. 

Hooded figures bustled around the polished black deck of the ship, all resembling the woman who greeted them in their clothing. All black with not a color in sight, and every person was covered head to toe. The only distinction between each figure was their size. Making it obvious that, while most were men, there were clearly other women mixed in amongst the crew. 

Tytos passed the time waiting for their group to assemble on the deck by trying to lecture the young woman who had allowed them up. His voice demanded very little and came out more as a whine that the woman blatantly ignored.

She was lounging, hood cast aside at her feet, on an ornately carved black staircase that led up to the bow of the ship. Her gaze paid far more attention to her ungloved fingers, which she was examining quite closely, than she paid to Tytos Lannister.

“Father,” Tywin called as he helped pull Ella over the side of the ship. “We have a meeting to attend to.” 

The young woman hopped to her feet and pushed past Tytos without a second glance. “Yes, after me, all of you.”

She led them down a short set of stairs along the dingy hallway to the back of the ship and banged her fist on a wide door cut with the word captain. 

“Enter,” came a voice from inside. 

The door swung open, and Tywin, at the front of the group, got his first glimpse of the Captain who had assembled them. 

The older man was a surprisingly slim physique, lacking any real breadth. His muscles were long and lean, just as his frame. His length forced his head to scrape the wooden beams above him, such that he had to duck down to fit in the space when he rose to his feet behind the desk. 

Not a knight by any means, but still a war-worn man. His skin was beat to a deep tan by the sun, and scars littered the visible surface of his arms, scaring over in a rough texture that matched the thick callused skin of the hands holding him up on the desk. The man was not a merchant by any means; he was a sailor. 

“Ashenna, these are our guests?” The captain finally put a name to the Valyrian woman’s face.

“Yes,” Ashenna gave a low nod, stepping out of the way to allow the entire traveling party to enter the room. “This is Ser Tywin Lannister.” She introduced Tywin to the Captain with a wave of her hand.

The Captain circled his desk and held out a hand to greet the younger knight, which the Lannister quickly accepted. “A pleasure, Ser Tywin. You are exactly the man we wished to speak to.”

Tywin’s gaze narrowed. “Then perhaps you could afford my Lord Father and I the pleasure of your name.” 

“Of course,” The Captain turned to Lawsen, who quickly shook his head and directed a hand to Tytos. “It is an honor to be in the presence of the Lord of the Rock. I am Captain Tarik Rogare.”

Rogare. That was a name Tywin hadn’t heard since his days studying with his Maester.

“Where is that name familiar to me from?” Tytos clearly couldn’t recall his own lessons.

The Captain accepted the slight with relative ease. “The Rogare Bank, my Lord.” It was a name every Lord, especially one so rich in gold as the Lannisters, should know by heart. Still, the Captain briefly explained, “My family once ran the largest bank in the world, till untimely deaths saw to its collapse.” 

“Oh yes!” It dawned on Tytos. “The Lysene Spring, how could I forget.”

Ashenna, as Tywin now knew the woman to be called, rolled her eyes and slid past the Lannister party towards a solid metal chest sitting in the corner of the room, the only piece of furniture in the room besides the Captain’s desk. 

Captain Rogare stepped aside to let her past but continued speaking uninterrupted. “Much of our family still resides in Lys, but my brothers and I have made our names in Asshai. Our fleet controls the waters from the Jade Gate to the Saffron Straits and traverses from Bear Island to Ulthos to the Thousand Islands.”

“Quite an expanse of water,” Tygett commented idly.

“Indeed,” the Captain agreed with a small hint of pride. “Such dominance has afforded us many opportunities for trade and exploration, and of course,” Rogare turned to Ashenna with a wide smile, extending a hand to the chest in the corner, “adventure.”

Ashenna lifted the latch on the chest and hauled open its lid with some effort against the weight. 

The Lannisters all seemed to hold their breath. The speculation was over. Whatever had brought Tarik Rogare to their shores and had assembled them in his quarters was to be revealed.

Ashenna pulled from the chest a long, thin wooden box. It was a beautifully made box, carved from what appeared to be driftwood but polished till it gleamed like the sea from whence it came. 

Ashenna carried it like a child. Her steps towards the Captain’s desk were slow, deliberate, as if a single jostling of the contents in her arms would mark the end of her very existence. She cradled the box as she slowly lowered it to the empty surface and set it down with a heavy breath that was clearly relieved of no longer having such a responsibility.

The Captain joined Ashenna standing behind his desk and gestured for the eight Lannisters to come closer. Without much thought, the family crowded around the desk. A look of wonder gleamed in Tytos’ eyes that was mirrored in his Lannisport cousins. 

Only Tywin seemed composed in the face of this mystery. He stood directly before the box looking on with the calculated disinterest of any born dealer. He was sure whatever was in the box Tytos would demand to have; he only hoped he could negotiate the deal. Captain Rogare could have demanded his right arm, and Tytos would have given it without even knowing what was inside. 

“Our dear Ashenna,” Captain Rogare motioned to her, “brought this back to us from her travels. On her return to Asshai from Volantis, she came by way of the Gulf of Grief and, in avoiding a group of pirates, did as no man has done before. She navigated the Smoking Sea of the Doom of Valyria and survived to tell the tale.”

Tywin looked on the woman again in a new light. She couldn’t be older than himself, yet they claimed she was capable of a feat men could only lie and say they accomplished. She was either the greatest sailor on the seas or an utter charlatan.

“She found there, the wreckage of a ship against the side of a volcano, undisturbed even after three centuries; for she was the first to live long enough to see it.” 

“And you have brought Valyrian treasure to us before the King?” Lawsen interrupted the story with a look of utter confusion.

Captain Rogare and Ashenna both smirked and shared a quick glance. They looked like the only two privy to a dark secret they were about to reveal before the world. 

“The ship,” Rogare reached out and took a firm grip on the top of the wooden box, “was not Valyrian.” 

Rogare removed the lid, and the room filled with a collective gasp. 

It wasn’t the dragonglass the Lannisters had been expecting or the eggs Ella had been hoping to see. It wasn’t from the Shadow at all, or even from Essos for that matter. 

It was a sword, and it was from Westeros. A sword from the Rock itself.

Tywin reached out a hand gently scooped the sheathed blade into his arms, marveling at a sight he had never hoped to see. The scabbard was a well worn leather he knew was not original to the thing, but there was no mistaking the sword for anything other than exactly what it was.

The hilt was a magnificently cast lion’s head, plated perfectly in a gold that remained untarnished even after so many years. It rested atop a beautifully carved crimson handle that led to a cross guard that swirled with design embossed in pure gold, meeting where the blade disappeared with a diamond of gold set inside a ruby frame. 

With all the care he could manage, Tywin pulled out the blade, as much to wonder at its craftsmanship as to confirm its identity. 

“You found it,” He murmured to himself, running his fingers over the flat edge of the fine Valyrian steel. “Brightroar.”


End file.
